


Recovery

by kimbob



Category: Shame (2011), X-Men: First Class (2011) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Artists, Coffe shops, Depression, M/M, Recovery, Romance, Sibling Love, Therapy, This is a love story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-19
Updated: 2012-06-19
Packaged: 2017-11-08 03:02:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/438414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimbob/pseuds/kimbob
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is no magic cure that will make it go away forever. There is only this: day by day. A tiny smile unexpected laughter, and irrevocable love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Recovery

 

The red head smiled at him, her blue eyes dark with want.

 

Brandon blinked slowly as he stared at her.

 

It was happening again.  He could feel it.  Those errant sparks of desire and excitement making his heart rate slowly but surely increase.  He balled his hands into fists and swallowed hard as he felt the blood rush in his ears. He watched as she stood up, her left hand enclosing around the pole.

 

It was already starting. Brandon is already imagining he’s behind her, fucking her hard and fast while- The train suddenly jolted and Brandon blinked in surprise as the old woman that was sitting next to him leaned heavily against him as the train stopped in the middle of the tunnel. 

 

His eyes slid toward the wedding ring on the red head’s finger.  He swallowed hard and looked down, the familiar feelings of shame and despair filling him. 

 

The train began to move again.

 

88888

****

**_Sex is an enjoyable act when shared between two responsible adults who hopefully are well acquainted with one another, and share mutual feelings for each other._ **

****

Brandon re-read the framed poster four times, still not understanding its meaning. He shook his head and looked down at his hands that were balled tightly into fists. He took a deep breath and glanced at the pretty receptionist.  She glanced up from her computer and smiled at him.  He quickly looked away.

 

He glanced up as a tall middle aged man with wired rim glasses made his way into the waiting room. “Brandon, I’m ready for you.”  He smiled warmly at him.

 

He stood up with a large sigh, glancing one last time at the pretty receptionist as he made his way into Dr. Grossman’s office.  The office was large and inviting with wood floors and a lit fireplace. In the middle of the room sat three over stuffed couches. Brandon sat down in one of them, sinking in deeply.  The room smelled faintly of vanilla and something else he couldn’t pin down.  As relaxing and disarming the room’s ambiance seemed, Brandon could do nothing, but feel tense and uncomfortable.

 

Dr. Grossman sat across from him, a note book in his hand.  “Before we begin, let’s get your medical stuff out of the way.”

 

Brandon nodded silently.

 

Dr. Grossman leafed through the papers in front of him. “It looks as though all of your blood tests came back negative for everything which is excellent.”

 

Brandon blinked slowly in surprise. He felt too tired to work up the relief.  

 

“All of your levels are normal which means we can start you on a four week trial of Zoloft which may help curb your obsessive thoughts and compulsivity.”

 

Brandon sighed heavily, starting to feel overwhelmed.  “Okay.”

 

Dr. Grossman nodded as he continued talking. “I’ll write a prescription for 50 milligrams at the end of our session. Okay.” He looked up at Brandon expectedly. “So let’s begin.”

 

Brandon shifted in his seat. “I don’t-“He trailed off.  What was he supposed to say? Do? He wasn’t comfortable talking about himself.  

 

Dr. Grossman shifted in his seat.  “You seem uncomfortable, but I want to assure you that this is a safe place.”

 

Brandon shook his head with a snort. “Right.”

 

The psychiatrist smiled. “You don’t believe me?”

 

Brandon shrugged. “I don’t trust you.” He said honestly.

 

Dr. Grossman nodded unmoved by this. “Well then we have to build trust.”

 

“I don’t know what that means.” He said. Trust was a foreign thing for him.

 

The psychiatrist shrugged. “Well trust has different meanings for everyone.”

 

Brandon shrugged helplessly.

 

Both men were quiet for a long moment before the doctor began to speak again.

 

“May I ask you a question?”

 

Brandon shrugged again. “Sure.”

 

“Do you believe you have an addiction to sex?”

 

Brandon felt himself tense even more as the words hit his ears. He could feel his face heating up in embarrassment as he’s taken back to the week before when he answered all of those questions on his assessment. How often do you masturbate? How many hours per day do you spend watching pornography? The answer was clear to anyone who had a brain. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” He answered quietly.

 

Dr. Grossman nodded a small smile on his face. “Thank you for your honesty Brandon. The first step to this whole process is admitting you even have a problem.”  He wrote something down in his notebook. “Lets talk about treatment and the possible difficulties you will face. “

 

Brandon sighed. “Right.”

 

8888

_Brandon peeked inside the room his sister was kept in for the past week, pausing when he noticed she was staring out the window. “Sissy?”_

_She turned to face him and he stepped forward as he noticed the tears in her eyes. “Hey.”_

_He stepped toward her. “Are you ready to go?”_

_She looked away from him to stare out the window. “There’s a park across the street. I’ve been watching the kids play.”_

_Brandon’s gaze followed his sister’s. Childish laughter rang high into the air as he watched two small children chase one another.  He glanced back at Sissy who was now staring at him with tears in her eyes._

_“They sound so happy…I can’t go back home with you Brandon.”_

_Panic gripped Brandon’s insides as he shook his head.  “You can come home with me Sissy. I-I didn’t mean what I said to you that night.”_

_She shook her head. “I’m sick Brandon. I want to die. Do you understand?”_

_He swallowed hard as the reality of those words hit him. “Sissy-“_

_She looked away from him. “I can’t expect you to put me back together Brandon. I need help, but not from you. Not this time.”_

_Brandon felt as though the air was being sucked out of the room. He slowly reached for Sissy’s hand and squeezed. “Okay.” He said softly. “We’ll find something for you. Together.”_

 

888

 

4 weeks into treatment

 

Friday morning

 

It’s the same thing every single day. Brandon wakes up at six in the morning. He brushes his teeth, he takes a piss then he showers. Afterward he eats breakfast and swallows down the medicine prescribed to him.  He’s out the door by seven thirty and makes the forty five minute trip to his job.

 

He could feel Marianne’s eyes on him everywhere he went.  It has been weeks since the “encounter” that didn’t occur.  Brandon knew he should at least apologize to her, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t work up the nerve.  

 

“Sullivan!”

 

Brandon looks up at David with a blank look. “Yes?”

 

David leans over his desk with a smile. “It’s Friday man. We’re heading out to our favorite place. You down?”

 

Brand shook his head. “No thanks.”

 

David frowned.  “No? Dude you just scored the biggest account today. We need to go out and celebrate! Come on man, drinks. Ladies.”

 

Brandon sighed heavily as he reached to switch his computer on. “No thanks.”

 

David shrugged. “Suit yourself. Man, what’s gotten into you?”

 

“I don’t know what you mean.”  Brandon answered. “Listen, I have a lot of work to get through.”

 

David took the hint and made his way back to his office.

 

Brandon stared hard at the space David had been in.  He realized two things. One: he hated David Fisher. He despised him. Brandon turned his attention back to his computer.  Two: He despised David almost as much as he hated this job.  Brandon’s halfway through typing up his resignation letter before he realizes what he’s doing.

 

He hands in his two weeks’ notice before the day is through. He declines a goodbye party. Everyone is shocked.

 

Brandon doesn’t care.

 

88

 

“I quit my job last week.”

 

Dr. Grossman looked surprised at this. “Why did you do that?”

 

“I hated my boss.” Brandon answered. “I hate that job.”

 

“Even though you were pretty successful?”  Dr. Grosssman asked.

 

Brandon shrugged. “There was no reason for me to stay.”

 

Dr. Grossman smiled as he wrote something down in his notebook. “What will you do now?”

 

Brandon shrugged, something strange stirring in his chest as he answered. “I have no idea.”

 

888

 

6 weeks into treatment

 

**_I am sober as long as I do not pay for sex or use pornography. I am sober as long as I do not engage in anonymous sex, sex in public places or sex with persons from the computer._ **

This was Brandon’s recovery plan and he wanted to tear it the fuck up. 5 weeks ago Dr. Grossman had challenged him with being completely abstinent for ninety days. Thirty-five days in and Brandon felt as if he were crawling out of his skin. He hadn’t realized how much working kept him occupied since starting treatment. Now he had all of this free time and nothing to do with it, but sit and think. He had tried running, but that only worked for so long. He had cleaned his apartment from top to bottom, which resulted in him finding an old porno mag underneath an old shoebox.

 

Brandon had stared at the cover for a long moment, his hands shaking. He could feel the tell-tale signs of his addiction taking hold. ‘It’ll be so easy.’ His mind whispered. ‘Just leaf through the pages. You were meant to find this book.’ 

 

Shame and despair filled him and Brandon closed his eyes as he tore the magazine in half. He tore it again and again until there were tiny pieces on the floor in front of him. Brandon slid to the floor and brought his legs up against his chest. He rested his chin on his knees as he stared blankly at the wall in front of him.

 

He was having a bad fucking day.

 

88

 

“How is the medication? Any side effects?”

 

Brandon shook his head. “No.”

 

Dr. Grossman nodded. “Have you been following your sex plan?”

 

Brandon ran his hand down his face as he answered. “Yes.”

 

Dr. Grossman wrote something down in his notebook. “You seem agitated today Brandon.”

 

Brandon couldn’t stop his leg from moving up and down.  He glanced at Dr. Grossman his jaw tightening. “I am agitated.”

 

Dr. Grossman nodded. “Do you mind telling me why?”

 

Brandon shook his head with a deep sigh. “I found a porno magazine this morning.”

 

Brandon wasn’t surprised when Dr. Grossman barely flinched.

 

“What did you do when you found it?”

 

“I ripped it up.”  Brandon answered honestly.

 

Dr. Grossman nodded. “That must’ve been hard.”

 

Hard was an understatement. It was fucking terrible.  “Yeah.”  He said.

 

“I could see how difficult it must’ve been for you.”

 

Brandon glared at him. “Oh, Fuck you!”

 

The older man seemed unmoved by his outburst. “Brandon, you’re in recovery.  This will not be easy for you. It will never be easy. But you ripped that magazine up.”

 

Brandon shook his head. “I quit my job-“He trailed off with swallow. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

 

“Live your life.” Dr. Grossman said softly. “Get a hobby. Paint your apartment. Brandon, you wasted hours of your life on your addiction and now this is your chance to get it back. Your carefully constructed life has fallen apart. It’s up to you to reconstruct it however you want.”

 

 

 

7 weeks into treatment

 

Brandon,

 

Hello Big Brother. They’ve finally given me permission to write to you. How are you doing? Still living I hope. Me? Well I’m doing okay. This place isn’t so bad. My therapist is pretty n ice. Apparently I have major depressive disorder and love addiction. I think that sounds about right. Anyway, I miss you Brandon. I wanted to thank you for helping me get into this place.  I’ll eventually be able to earn phone privileges so you’ll be hearing from me. Also, I’ll be able to have visitors soon as well. I better go.

 

With all my love,

 

Sissy…. P.S.- PLEASE WRITE BACK!  Also, I wouldn’t hate it if you sent me some chocolate you know it makes me smile   PPS- did you stick to your promise? You know what I’m talking about.

Love you again, bye!

 

Brandon read the letter for a second time, a sad smile coming onto his face. He had avoided thinking about his little sister since they checked her in at the hospital four weeks ago.  He missed her and it pained him to know he hadn’t realized how much he needed her in his life until it was almost too late. There had been a time when he and Sissy were once close, but after he finished college he had pushed Sissy so far away because being around her brought on memories he’d rather not think about. 

 

Brandon wasn’t surprised Sissy had a love addiction. Sissy craved love.  She needed it as much as someone needed to breathe. Brandon couldn’t understand that. Loving someone was awful.

 

Brandon’s eyes scanned the letter again. He did love Sissy. He did. He just couldn’t tell her and it pained him to admit that. Brandon chased sex because he couldn’t feel a thing.  Sissy, she felt **everything** and Brandon sometimes despised her for that.  He was working on it though.

 

Brandon gently folded her letter and placed it to the side. He will write back to Sissy as soon as he thinks about what it is he wants to say.  

 

For now, he had to figure out what color he was going to paint his apartment.

 

88

 

“I’ve heard from my sister.” Brandon reported.

 

“That’s good.” Dr. Grossman said.

 

Brandon nodded. “She said she’s doing well. I’m supposed to write her back but I have no idea what to say to her.”

 

“Are you close to your sister?”

 

Brandon shrugged as he answered. “We used to be close.”

 

Dr. Grossman nodded.  “What changed?”

 

“I did.” Brandon answered with little hesitation. “I guess you could say I pushed her away.”

 

“Oh.” Dr. Grossman said. “Well what was your relationship like before the change?”

 

Brandon looked down at his hands as he thought about his younger self. “I took care of her. “ He paused for a long moment before continuing. “Our mother wasn’t…There were days where she could barely get out of bed.”

 

Dr. Grossman nodded in understanding.  “And your father?”

 

“He left us after Sissy turned four. I was ten.” Brando didn’t know when he had become so talkative. “He was barely ever around anyway.”  He could remember being so responsible, especially during the times his mother went into one of her “moods”.  He would cook himself and Sissy breakfast, get them both ready for school and then come home and cook them dinner. He told Dr. Grossman as much.

 

“That must’ve been very stressful for you.”

 

Brandon shrugged. “I felt like I had to do it. It was my responsibility.” He paused as what he said hit him.

 

“It still doesn’t sound fair.” 

 

“I guess not.” Brandon agreed.

 

“Did your mother ever remarry?”

 

Brandon tensed all over from the question but he answered. “Yes when I was twelve.” He swallowed thickly. “I don’t want to talk about him.”

 

“Okay.” The older man said. “Thank you for sharing that with me today.”

 

888

 

“No!”

 

Brandon sat up in bed, breathing hard.  His body trembled as the remnants of the  dream floated through his mind. No. Not a dream, but a memory. His heart pounded as he brought trembling hands up into his hair in a nervous gesture he never could get rid of.

 

Tears fell from his eyes and down his cheeks, which in turn had him stumbling out of bed and into the bathroom. He was on his knees and dry heaving into the toilet a second later.

 

“Fuck.” He whispered when he was finished. He spit one last time and flushed, standing up to lean against the sink. He brushed his teeth and rinsed his mouth out with mouthwash.

 

‘That time is over.’ He told himself. ‘It was just a dream. He can’t hurt you anymore.’ The words brought him no reassurance. He angrily wiped his tears away and turned to get dressed. He knew what he needed.

 

88

 

Finding someone to join him for a fuck in an alleyway was quite easy. Brenda had blonde hair and green eyes. She had a pretty smile, but an annoying laugh. None of those things mattered to Brandon. Only the feel of her legs wrapped around his waist as he sucked her tongue into his mouth mattered.

 

“Fuck yes.” She breathed when his lips moved down toward her neck.  “I want you to fuck me hard.” She whispered when he pulled back to unbuckle his belt.

 

Brandon reached into his jacket pocket for a condom.  He needed this more than anything. He needed this relief. Just this once. Just this once.  He struggled to open the condom.

 

“Are you okay?” Brenda asked hesitantly. “You’re kind of freaking me out here.”

 

Brandon looked down at himself and to his horror he was trembling. He glanced around his surroundings and closed his eyes as the all too familiar feeling of shame and despair filled him. He stuffed the condom into his back pocket and untwined her legs from around his waist.

 

“I can’t.” Brandon said. “I can’t do this.”

 

Brenda sighed heavily. “Why do I always pick up the nut jobs?” She muttered to herself.  She moved around him and out of the alleyway. “See yah.”

 

Brandon leaned his head against the cool brick wall, wondering how it was he could fuck up so much.

 

888

 

James hummed to himself as he pulled a fresh batch of blueberry muffins from the oven. He smiled at their perfection and placed it onto the rack to cool.  He looked up as the bell on the front door rang telling him there was a new customer. He glanced at the time and frowned as he realized it was well past closing and he once again forgot to lock the door.  

 

Christ, his employees were right, he was going to get murdered one day.  “Be out in a tic!” he called.  He took off his oven gloves and made his way to the front, pausing in surprise at the man standing at the counter.

 

It was attractive jogger guy. He jogs by the café every afternoon at the same time and he never comes in, which surprised James because everyone comes in at least once.   James noticed two things: attractive jogger guy looked like he didn’t know why he was here. Attractive jogger guy also looked like someone killed his puppy.

 

‘Okay.’ James stepped up to the counter, putting on his most charming smile. “Hello.”

 

Brandon sighed. “Uh, hey. I was uh-“

 

Attractive jogger guy looked so flustered that James had to have mercy on him. “Coffee?” He offered.

 

Brandon nodded. “Sure. Yes. I noticed the hours on your door and-“

 

James shrugged. “Ah yes. We are closed, but I forgot to lock the door.”

 

Now Brandon looked embarrassed. “Oh, I’m sorry.” He said softly.

 

“No need to be sorry.” James said with a shake of his head. “I say fate led me to leave the door open and you were meant to come in here.”  He smiled again. “Now how about that: black coffee without cream and lots of sugar?”  James felt his grin widen at the surprised look on attractive jogger guy’s face. He mentally patted himself on the back. He could always tell what someone’s “drink” was just by looking at them. He was never wrong.  He gestured to the set of tables behind Brandon. “Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll bring you your mug.”

 

Brandon nodded. “Okay.” He muttered.

 

James didn’t like the way his hands shook as he poured the beans into the grinder and emptied it onto the filter. It wasn’t like he didn’t do this a million times before. So what if depressed attractive jogger guy was extremely attractive?  James glanced over his shoulder, unsurprised to see the man staring down at his hands. James frowned as he felt a tug on his heart strings. He knew that look. It was the look of a man at the end of his rope.  James knew the feeling pretty well.

 

Once the coffee was done, James reached for a mug and poured. He added a healthy dose of sugar and grabbed a small saucer as he reached for one of the double chocolate chip muffins he had made earlier.  “Okay.” He said as he picked up both treats and brought them to his silent customer. He placed them both down with a smile. “Enjoy.” He said.

 

 

Brandon glanced at the muffin with a small frown. “I’m not very hungry.” He took a sip of his coffee and paused, his eyes widening slightly. “This is-“He trailed off as he placed his mug down.

 

“Amazing?” James supplied. “Delicious? Orgasmic?”  He bit his lip to keep from talking. What the hell?  He watched as depressed jogger attractive guy’s expression shuttered closed. “Uh..i gave you the muffin because you looked like you had a pretty shitty night.”

 

Brandon blinked and just like that the closed look had gone back to sadness.  “Yeah.” He said quietly.

 

James shuffled his feet in indecision. Usually he’d just go about his business and leave his customers be, but something inside him prevented him from moving. He stared at hot guy, taking his time to get a good look at him. Shoulders hunched eyes sad and expression drawn. He breathed sadness. “You just look so sad man.” It was seconds after he said it that he realized he said that out loud.

 

Brandon’s eyes slid up to meet James. “You always hover over your customers this way?”

 

Ahh, so there was a person under all that sadness. “Just the Irish ones.” He detected the accent the moment attractive jogger guy spoke.  

 

Brandon gave a tiny smile. “Huh.”

 

James held his hand out. “I’m James.”

 

Brandon shook his hand. “Brandon.” He took another sip of his coffee.

 

“Brandon.” James repeated. He took the empty seat and folded his hands in front of himself. “I’ve noticed you jog past here every day and you never stop in, but I guarantee you after you’ve tasted that muffin, you will be in here every single day.”

 

Brandon snorted as he took a large gulp of his coffee. “I’m not very hungry.” He repeated politely.

 

“Come on.” James goaded. “Do a Scot a favor and taste just one piece.”

 

Brandon fought the urge to roll his eyes as he snagged a small piece of the chocolate muffin. He popped it into his mouth and paused in surprise.  “Oh my god.” He muttered then blushed from embarrassment.

 

James slowly smiled as he sat back in his chair feeling satisfied.  “Sometimes, when you have a shitty day Chocolate helps.  It says I’m sorry so much better than words.”

 

Brandon took a larger chunk of the muffin and stuffed it into his mouth. He finished off his coffee. “I should go.” He said. He reached into his pocket and placed a twenty onto the table.

 

“Let me get your change.” James said standing up.

 

“Keep it.” Brandon said standing. He reached for his muffin. “Thanks.”

 

James placed the twenty into the tip jar. “See you tomorrow.”

 

“Maybe.” Brandon tossed over his shoulder.

 

James watched Brandon leave his café. James knew Brandon would be back.

 

James also knew he was so screwed.

 

88

 

The flavor exploded on his tongue.  It was the first time in years since he’d actually tasted something and enjoyed it. Food was merely fuel to him what little of it he ate.

 

Brandon kicked his apartment door closed as he finished the rest of his muffin. He tossed the paper cup into the trash as he made his way into his bedroom. He quickly undressed and neatly folded his clothes, placing them in the chair beside his bed. He climbed in and lied on top of the covers, his thoughts turning to the night he had.  The memories of his past had clearly triggered him. He’d almost relapsed. He sort of did. He made a mental note to write that down as Dr. Grossman instructed him to.




 

Brandon thought back to the amazing coffee and the delicious chocolate muffin he just had. He could still taste the flavors on his tongue, which made him smile a little. It was the little things that he could focus on.  It was a kind smile and blue eyes.  Brandon enjoyed the little conversation with the Scotsman. Maybe he will go back tomorrow.  He turned onto his side, his eyes drifting shut. He felt a small slither of hope for the first time since starting treatment.

 

Maybe. Just maybe he could do this.

 

TBC


End file.
